


Ready to Ride

by morbid_beauty



Series: Metamorph AU [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morbid_beauty/pseuds/morbid_beauty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Frank heard a loud thump, like something big and heavy falling from the trees behind him. Some branches came down with it and, heart hammering in his chest, Frank slowly turned.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“For someone who likes dogs so much,” Gerard said, his voice rough as he exhaled black smoke, “you sure do have an aversion to metamorphs.”</i>
</p>
<p>In a universe where some people, called metamorphs, are born with the ability to turn into creatures, Frank befriends a dragon.</p>
<p>(Or: the one where Gerard is a dragon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready to Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leah_Red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leah_Red/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Leah <3

Frank woke up early mornings to jog with his dogs. It was a win-win: his friends got to have their daily exercise and Frank got to shave the pounds his medication really, really wanted him to gain. They jogged through the park as the sun rose and by the time they got home Frank was ready to start his day. Best idea Frank ever had.

The first time he met Gerard, it was a misty day. The kind where you just want it to rain so the humidity will god damn calm itself but you know it won’t so you grin and bear it. It was getting colder, well into October now, but Frank’s friends were resilient and forced him to keep up with them. Good boys (and girl).

One of them stopped by an opening on the path, staring at the forest, and Frank got jerked back when he didn’t realize it in time. The others whimpered as they turned and they all suddenly stared at the trees, mystified.

“What is it?” Frank said. He looked up.

“Hello,” said the stranger emerging from the trees.

“Kinda cold for that, dontcha think?” Frank said.

The stranger was covered in dirt. His feet were bare as was his chest; the bottoms of his jeans were torn, split like a banana. He looked terribly frightened. Frank didn’t know how to react so naturally he made a dumb joke.

“I’m...” the stranger started to say, and very suddenly he fell forward.

“Shit,” said Frank.

He quickly moved to tie his dogs to a fence then ran over to the stranger. Frank turned him over and checked his pulse. His heart was beating impossibly fast but it was beating so he was alive, at least. Fuck, Frank never imagined he’d have that thought. He took off his jacket hurriedly and draped it over the stranger. Then he fumbled for his cellphone, quickly dialing 911. The beeps from his phone must have stirred the stranger because his hand shot out and grabbed Frank’s wrist.

“Don’t,” the stranger said. “Please.”

Frank was suddenly very creeped out. What’s this half-naked guy doing passing out in a forest and grabbing Frank? The dogs barked frantically, only freaking him out more (his friends were good judges of character) and when Frank tugged his wrist away the stranger stayed hooked on. His eyes were wild, wide and fearful and fierce, and Frank was ready to pound his face if he didn’t let go. He did, though, the fear overwhelming his expression. He seemed shocked as he lowered his hand and Frank immediately stood up, running to his dogs.

“Your jacket!” the stranger called, his voice hoarse, as Frank started jogging again.

“Keep it!” Frank replied without looking back.

Naturally, Frank was sick the next morning. Should’ve gotten that jacket back. He didn’t jog again until a few mornings later and when he did, he steered clear of that path he took the last time. After two weeks, he figured it was safe again. Or fate made a decision. Whatever it was, Frank took that path with his dogs and they all abruptly stopped near the same entrance as before.

“Hell no,” Frank said. He tugged but the dogs didn’t budge. “Guys, I don’t want—”

Something ripped through the air, thick and vibrating, and Frank realized it was a roar. He looked up with his eyes wide as disks and the dogs whimpered. Not like they were afraid, but like they were worried; the bravest of them stepped forward and barked questioningly.

A metamorph.

It had to be one of those freaks of nature that turned into an animal. Frank shook his head. So few of them had been discovered in Jersey, he couldn’t believe there was one in his neighborhood. No. No, he needed to get out of here before his dogs got any dumb ideas of being heroes. Unfortunately, he thought about running away half a second before his dogs decided to do just what he feared and they dragged him forward stumbling between the trees.

Frank raised his free arm and squinted at the ground, making sure not to get hit by branches or trip over any roots. By the time the dogs stopped, Frank was out of breath and he’d forgotten to be scared when he looked up. The trees were less thick here but branches had fallen and created somewhat of a clearing where the sun shone on the same stranger of that morning weeks ago. He was on his hands and knees, shaking. He was in better shape than last time. Still covered in dirt but his pajama pants weren’t torn. That was the only improvement, actually, Frank realized as he surveyed the scene: there was a hoodie hanging over a branch, there were angry red marks on the stranger’s back, his hands and feet and ears looked red and raw.

“Were you attacked?” Frank asked softly.

The stranger jerked his head up, those same eyes wide with shock and fear. “No,” he croaked.

“It was a metamorph, wasn’t it?” Frank guessed. “Someone you know?”

The stranger studied Frank for a moment then slowly, unsurely, nodded. Frank nodded right back, as if he understood what it was like to have a loved one that was a monster. Some metamorphs weren’t that bad, admittedly; Frank heard of a man that could turn into a butterfly. But since most of this was happening to people in adulthood, they were basically wild having never lived as that animal in youth. A wild animal living on instinct. There were horror stories. He understood why the stranger would be secretive. Metamorphs had to be registered and sometimes they were taken away. Still, they meant danger, friend or not.

“You can’t protect them forever,” Frank said.

“I didn’t ask for advice,” the stranger grumbled, stumbling to his feet.

Frank looked at his dogs questioningly and they all seemed to be obediently sitting, observing the scene curiously. He lowered their leashes to the ground and stepped away slowly. One barked as Frank approached the stranger and he waved them off. The stranger jumped when Frank grabbed him by his waist then relaxed as they shimmied together to the hoodie on the branch. The stranger slipped it on.

“Thanks,” he said. He shifted from foot to foot. He looked so tired.

“I can walk you home?” Frank said. The stranger shook his head. “Well, I’m not letting you go home alone after you were attacked.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Frank picked up the leashes and cleared his throat. The dogs started moving, guiding Frank, and he heard the stranger following slowly behind. He did seem fine; he was walking normal and the redness in his ears, hands, and feet seemed to be fading. But Frank’s motherly instincts or something made him want to protect this guy. Fucking metamorphs, ruining everything.

Once they were out of the forest and on the path again, Frank turned to the stranger. “Look,” he said, “I’m not okay with you wandering home alone after whatever you just went through. So you can come with me so I can make you some tea or some shit or I’ll call the cops and tell them I found someone who was attacked by a metamorph and you’ll have some s’plaining to do.”

The stranger blinked then smiled a little. “You realize I can just leave?” he said. “Like, turn away from you right now.”

Frank crossed his arms. “Fucking do it.”

The stranger looked down at himself. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Tea sounds good.”

On the walk home, they went over the basics. Frank. Gerard. Guitarist in local band. Comic book artist. Few blocks that way. More than a few blocks that way. Jogging with dogs. Silence. That was okay. It wasn’t Frank’s business. But he will chastise the fucker anyway.

“I am not going to get myself killed, trust me,” Gerard said from across Frank’s dining table, actually laughing as if he knew something Frank didn’t despite the fact that Frank saw the aftermath of whatever happened.

“I’m just trying to warn you, dude,” Frank said. “Those fuckers aren’t a joke. Even if it’s someone you love, you can’t mess with—”

“They’re not all bad, okay? Fuck off.”

Frank raised his hands complacently. “So-rry.”

They watched the news. Then some cartoons. Gerard fell asleep on Frank’s couch. He covered him in a blanket.

They saw each other a lot after that. It was surprising. Frank tried some guitar bits on Gerard, who then brainstormed story ideas with Frank. There was not another incident in the forest. Frank went on his jogs, Gerard did whatever, and they sometimes fell into step and went to each other’s houses. It was an awesome, weird, creative friendship. Who knew.

“And then, like, the bass kicks in, right?” Frank was saying one afternoon.

“Why don’t you just take me to a practice?” Gerard replied. “You talk about your band like you’re so proud and then you—”

“No one is allowed at our practices!” Frank said. “I have told you this.”

“Whatever, man, I share god damn all of my creative endeavors with you.”

Frank groaned. Gerard grinned. He lowered his guitar to the floor and leaned over on the couch to see Gerard’s work, which he swung out of Frank’s line of sight. He blushed. Frank smirked.

“God damn all,” Frank repeated, and Gerard scoffed and pushed Frank back.

Frank, however, had braced himself against it, grabbing onto the back of the couch. He surged forward, which Gerard wasn’t expecting, and he fell backward, Frank floating over him. They stared each other for a moment, their faces about a foot away from each other, Frank’s hands on either side of Gerard. He swallowed and looked down as Gerard moved his hip to get more comfortable, dropping his notebook, and in a swift motion Frank was wrapped in him and kissing him.

So this wasn’t surprising but it kinda was. Frank’s friends all thought Gerard had a crush on him, though they’d only met him once in the space of those first few weeks of their weird friendship. And Frank did hate going more than a day without talking to the guy. But, shit, they basically just met and there was no indication of this, this desire, this want that was drawing them to cling to each other furiously as they kissed.

Gerard felt warm, then hot, then impossible hot, his hands almost burning Frank’s neck and cheek, Frank’s hands on Gerard’s shoulders rising in temperature along with him. It startled him and before he knew it Gerard was pushing him off, shoving him so hard he stumbled and fell with a loud thump against the arm of the couch. The dogs barked angrily from their barricaded home in the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry!” Gerard called immediately. Frank didn’t understand what had just happened and he wouldn’t find out. Gerard picked up his book and left Frank’s apartment so quickly, Frank was confused and distraught when he looked around.

Frank went jogging the next morning, alone. He didn’t know how he felt about the incident with Gerard. Scared because Gerard had thrown him like that? Angry because Gerard had left without saying anything? He didn’t know. But he took that path again and he looked at that entrance. He glanced around before stepping into the trees, hopeful.

“Gerard,” he called silently when he was near enough the clearing from before. His voice croaked. “Damn it, Gerard, I know you’re here.”

“Frankie, don’t,” Gerard’s hoarse voice said from…somewhere. Frank looked around frantically.

“Talk to me,” Frank said. “Is it the metamorph? Because I’m not asking for your hand in marriage or anything, it was a kiss. You don’t owe me shit.”

“I like you,” said Gerard’s disembodied fucking voice.

“That’s cool and all but I can’t see you,” Frank said. After a moment of silence, he groaned. “I like you too, moron, get the fuck out here. Is it here? Your metamorph friend? Should I be—”

Frank heard a loud thump, like something big and heavy falling from the trees behind him. Some branches came down with it and, heart hammering in his chest, Frank slowly turned.

“For someone who likes dogs so much,” Gerard said, his voice rough as he exhaled black smoke, “you sure do have an aversion to metamorphs.”

“You’re the metamorph,” Frank said fearfully, stepping back.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Gerard said. “I’m getting better at controlling it, I swear.”

Frank shook his head and stepped backward until his back hit a tree. Gerard was…not Gerard. He was in his pajamas like last time, shirtless and shoeless yet again, and his feet… Frank looked down, gasping at five giant claws that prodded at the ground from where Gerard’s feet should be, covered in red scales and giving him an extra foot of height. Behind Gerard, a jagged spiked tail dragged in the mud. Higher, Gerard’s hands were half red with those same scales, skin splitting out red and rough and layered, his fingernails huge and claw-like. His ears were spiked up like elves’ but bigger and red, and behind him… He stepped forward and Frank tried to step back and away, hands shaking. Large red wings moved open a little, presumably attached to Gerard’s back; the sides of his waist were scaly as well. Frank thought he would throw up.

“Don’t turn me in,” Gerard said, as if he read it in Frank’s face that he would. He needed to at least be registered, especially if he was something…dangerous. Which he seemed to be. “Please, God, don’t turn me in. I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ve been morphing less and less lately, scared that you’ll catch me again and that dumb lie I told wouldn’t suffice. The less I do it, the harder it is to control. That’s why I got all hot yesterday. I mean, that and…” He chuckled, his face turning red like his fucking scales _he had scales_ and he cleared his throat when he noticed Frank didn’t find it funny at fucking all. “I don’t know, I freaked out. I’m so sorry.”

“So you are a monster,” Frank clarified.

“No!” Gerard said frantically. “I can control myself when I morph. I just can’t control when it happens. Most metamorphs can control when. I can’t. So I morph every night, for a few hours. Not always completely. Like right now. This is…a half-morph, I guess.”

Frank continued to stare unsurely, his breath hitched. He didn’t understand what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” Gerard said, taking a careful heavy step forward. His voice was still rough and when he sighed deeply, smoke came out of his mouth. Frank gripped the bark of the tree behind him. “I’m sorry I lied,” Gerard went on, “but I am being 100% honest now. That first time we met? It was the first time it happened. I’ve never hurt anybody…except maybe myself, by accident.” He kept stepping forward until he was about a foot away. Frank was still tense. “Frankie, you know me.”

“I obviously don’t,” Frank croaked. Gerard turned away. “I won’t turn you in.”

Gerard breathed a sigh of relief. Frank shot that hope down immediately.

“But you have to stay away from me,” Frank said.

Gerard looked shocked, then pained, then resigned. He nodded.

Frank stopped jogging. He didn’t see Gerard for a while. He went to band practice, walked his dogs in the afternoon, played a show…that Gerard attended, Frank saw him, and he hoped Gerard would come talk to him. But he slipped out before it could happen. Then Frank realized, what the fuck, he wanted to talk to Gerard. Wanted to see him. Wanted a repeat of that kiss, wanted to feel him, know him, understand. It took about two weeks for him to get over himself, which seems to be his thing. Two weeks.

He knocked on Gerard’s door. Waited. Then turned to leave a second before it opened to one frightened eye.

“I don’t have the cops with me,” Frank said, raising his arms.

Gerard opened the door. They stared at each other for a moment. “Coffee?” Frank nodded. They sat on the couch. Waited some more.

“My dad is a metamorph,” Frank whispered.

“Then you—” Gerard started, eyes wide, and Frank interrupted.

“Pug,” Frank said, nodding. “Can control it pretty well, actually. My dad couldn’t.”

“He hurt you?” Gerard asked gently, carefully.

“My mom.” Frank stared at his coffee. “She’s got this terrible scar across her face… He didn’t mean it but the marriage was over and I was only nine. I’ve never…trusted…”

The genetics were weird. Frank could turn into a pug. His father could turn into a violent husky. No one really understood the genetics except that if one parent was a metamorph, then the child will likely be. For some reason, both parents being a metamorph seemed to cancel out and occasionally none-metamorph parents had metamorph kids. It didn’t make sense. Many studies were being done to figure it out. Frank read everything about it.

“But you’re right,” Frank said. He looked up at Gerard. “I do know you. And I trust you and I like you.”

“Frank, I’ll never hurt you,” Gerard said, his eyes reassuring and passionately sure.

Frank nodded.

“I mean I, like, flap around and light my stove with my breath but that’s got nothing to do with you.”

Frank blinked. “You have to light your stove?” he asked.

“The thingy that does the fire doesn’t work…” Gerard snapped his fingers with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What’s it called?”

Frank laughed. How fucking absurd is there world.

A few nights later, they were on the path near the forest. Gerard was shivering under his robe. Frank was well bundled up. Gerard sighed and turned away from Frank.

“We haven’t even had sex yet,” Gerard mourned.

“But I’m gonna ride you,” Frank said. He’d been making the joke for days.

“We should’ve had sex first, I don’t want you to see me naked.”

“You’re a fucking dragon, dude. Forget it.”

Gerard sighed deeply. “Don’t laugh,” he grumbled. Frank beamed.

Gerard walked over to the fence and disrobed. What a cute little ass, Frank thought. He couldn’t wait to fuck it. But he’d have to because now, well, he had to listen to Gerard groan painfully as whatever the heck his body did to turn him into a giant fucking dragon happened: first his skin raising and staining red, splitting, then his tail bone stretching out, long and thick and spiked. His arms rose as he got taller, clawed feet stretching from his toes, similar but smaller claws stretched from his fingers. He roared into the air, arching his back as his ribs widened and…fuck, two little stubs poked out of his back as his snout, he had a fucking _snout_ , reached for the sky. The stubbed quickly stretched and widened, faintly black against some read. Suddenly he fell forward, breathing hard; his breaths came out jaggedly and when Frank walked around him he saw that little flames were released from his mouth with each exhale.

“Can you…speak?” Frank said.

Telepathically, Frank thought. No. Shit. Gerard _said_. He stumbled backward and Gerard smiled, pleased with himself. His teeth were huge and pearly white. He got up on his hind legs (his legs? Whatever) and he towered, as tall as the trees. He looked like a really big lizard honestly, a big lizard with wings and giant hazel eyes. This was Gerard. Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Frank said.

Yeah, said Gerard, in Frank’s freaking head holy crap, sounding pleased still. Ready to…ride me?

Frank giggled then beamed then became horrified. Gerard moved forward again, going on all fours, and Frank couldn’t believe how vast he was. Gerard laid down his wide wings and Frank got as close to him as possible before climbing and hoisting himself up on Gerard’s back. Gerard was so warm that Frank was lulled for a moment; it was really late and he was sleepy. He slipped and Gerard raised his wing, keeping him there. Frank climbed him like a rock wall and sort of humped him to hoist himself forward, finally stopping when he was between Gerard’s wings as they had agreed.

“Sorry,” Frank said, moving his boots on the crook of Gerard’s wings to get comfortable.

Doesn’t hurt, dumbass, said Gerard. Frank scoffed. He fixed his mittens and scarf. Ready?

“As I’ll ever be,” Frank mumbled, leaning forward and hugging Gerard’s wide neck.

Gerard raised his wings high, each taller even than the trees, and in one swoop they were in the air. Frank squeezed and widened his eyes as the trees sank below them and the starry sky rose, the air getting colder and windier but cleaner. Frank leaned back a little as Gerard flapped his wings, going higher. He saw their town below them, the houses so tiny, and laughed more out of fear than excitement. Still, he was excited. A fucking dragon. What the hell.

“This is amazing,” Frank said. “I’m really scared.”

I’ve got you, Gerard said.

They went over a field and Gerard dipped sideways, making Frank scream. Hold on tight, Gerard said. Frank clung to his neck again. Gerard went high in the air, almost at a 90 degree angle, then flipped backward so quickly Frank got stuck to him. Then he was parallel with the ground again and he zoomed forward with a flap of his wings, steady. Frank leaned up again, relishing in the freezing air hitting him. Oh, he was going to be sick tomorrow. But it would be totally worth it.

At the end, Frank was dizzy as hell and shaking but smiling so wide it hurt. He held Gerard’s robe open for him as he morphed back to his human form then helped him put it on without averting his eyes downward.

“That was so cool,” Frank said.

“Yeah?” Gerard said, grinning.

“Yeah. So fucking cool.”

They started the walk home. Frank clung to Gerard, who was still extremely warm.

“You gonna show me your pug form?” Gerard asked casually.

Frank patted his shoulder. “One step at a time,” Frank said. Gerard sighed, a flame shooting out of his mouth. Frank growled like the little puppy he was inside and they laughed the rest of the way home.


End file.
